John and Delenn in Where No Shadows Fall
by NWHS
Summary: Epilogue to "Lost and Found."
1. Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Delenn of Mir and John Sheridan**

**Author: NWHS**

Author's Note: B.G. Kuro asked if I would consider writing a John/Delenn reunion story for "Lost and Found." When I finished "Lost and Found," I considered it a completed fic and never looked back. B.G.'s idea made be rethink the idea of "finished." So I thought to extend "Lost and Found" to include an epilogue of sorts. Well, let's see how well I conceptualize the Minbari concept of "where no shadows falls" and "beyond the rim." Yeah, that should be interesting (LOL). Anyway, here we go.

Where No Shadows Fall

Chapter 1: Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

Delenn of Mir was tired, so utterly exhausted and weak. She had been for a very long time. Too many years to count, in fact, she'd given up chronicling the endless cycles of her life. One cycle bled into another into another and into another until the rising of the sun and the setting of the moon were nearly interchangeable in her mind.

Rich brown hair had given way to thin, limp opal. Smooth , flawless skin softened, wrinkled, spotted. Strong, flexible bones became stubborn, stiff, achy. And while the body slowly, steadily, unrepentantly succumbed to the ravages of time, Delenn's mind remained as keen as ever.

_I wish I could forget._

But she'd forgotten nothing over her long life. A curse most days, others, an old woman's blessing.

She tried to shift on the bed. Nothing. Delenn commanded her body to move, to make herself comfortable. Nothing.

Her body. Her traitorous body. Delenn began to laugh, startling the young worker caste nurse tending her.

Delenn never laughed, couldn't remember the last time she'd done so. Had any cause to do so. But she laughed now, like a maniacal lunatic.

_Her body._ Her complex human and Minbari network of organs, muscles, blood, and bones. Who knew?

Her laughter was surprisingly loud, uproariously bitter, sending the concerned nurse from the room, probably in search of Delenn's healer.

The healer could do nothing. No one ever truly could. Not even Dr. Stephen Franklin who understood her physiology best of all. But he was long dead.

_Like the others. But I remain. Still here. Death refusing to take me. Damn the crystalis. Damn the prophecy. Damn me._

Her body.

Strength. Traitor.

Fortitude. Traitor

Longevity. Traitor

But it was finally listening to her. Finally ready to rest. Finally heeding her prayers.

And what did Delenn of Mir, former Entil'zha and President of the Interstellar Alliance, former Ambassador to Babylon 5, mother of David Sheridan, and wife of John Sheridan and Satai Chimir pray for?

_Peace._

_Forgiveness._

_Death._

Elusive wants. Shadowed needs.

But death was no longer so far out of reach. She could feel it magnificently slithering its way from her immobile legs to her arthritic hips and back.

Her mind would be the last to go, the one that was neither devoutly Minbari nor strangely Human. The one that made her remember, the dreams, the nightmares.

The cost of living too long, seeing too much.

Feeling. Yes, feeling too much. Losing even more.

A curse.

A burden.

A sacrifice.

For the greater good.

For the universe.

For love.

For life.

Time began to slow, and the air filled with the sweet smell of anticipation, the floral scent of long denied relief.

Delenn heard but no longer saw.

Footsteps.

Worried, hushed voices.

Machines.

Beeps.

Beeps.

Beep.

Beep.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Weightlessness.

Darkness.

Darkness.

Nothingness.

Freedom.

Death.

In a place where no shadows fall, I will meet you again Below the moon and the stars where it all began.  
>Where no shadows fall, we will meet again. Where no shadows fall, where it all began.<br>We all feel the presence of our destiny draw near.  
>In this place where no shadows fall, we will have to surrender to our fears.<p>

Alone.

Lonely.

Again.

Tears.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. I pray the Lord my soul to keep

**Chapter 2: I Pray the Lord My Soul to Keep**

Part 1: Her

How could a soul weep? Feel pain? Know sorrow?

Delenn had no answers, only sensations. And her soul did indeed rage with emotions she'd only ever experienced when it was tethered to her vessel of a body. The body that had outlived, outpaced, outmaneuvered all understanding of Minbari and Human mortality.

Unnatural. Yes, it was unnatural to live so long. But she had, an unknown and unwelcomed side-effect of the chrysalis. At least she'd convinced herself it was her transformation that had added years to her life, years greater than any other Minbari in recorded history.

Ironic really, she thought, her soul floating in the dark void that was her new existence, her new home. She, who was willing to die at the hands of Sebastian the Inquisitor, the Shadows, the Starfire Wheel, and the puppet Emperor Mollari, knowing life to be but a transitory phase, responsible for countless deaths during the Earth-Minbari War, deserving of death, but finding a long lived life instead.

And a harsh, bitter laugh came. Her soul was able to do that as well, the sound the only one in the solid, starless, sunless abyss. It echoed off invisible walls of space, sending it back to her even more mirthless than when it escaped a throat that only existed in her mind.

_The molecules of your body are the same molecules that make this station and the nebula outside, that burn inside the stars themselves. We are star-stuff. We are the Universe, made manifest, trying to figure itself out. _

A depressed sigh now. Delenn, priestess by training, remembered her long ago words, lessons taught to her in Temple, prayers she'd whispered over the dead, wishing them a safe journey to the other side. Where no shadows fall.

But there was another place one's soul could travel upon death, one rarely spoken of by any caste. The knowledge wasn't hidden or discourse forbidden, but a possibility few wanted to entertain. A hereafter no one prayed for, a curse a Minbari wouldn't make even against their most vile enemy.

Yet Delenn's soul had traversed the Universe, moving at quicksilver speed, a blind person guided by internal sight. Instinct. Will.

Now she was here, a place where no stars fell and only shadows were allowed.

Shadows of the mind. Of the heart. Of the soul.

Part 2: Him

John Sheridan's star dimmed, the normal luminosity lost to the growing bleakness of his soul.

_Where is she? Why hasn't she returned to me?_

Yeah, he'd been asking himself the same questions since he'd sensed Delenn's death. That had been three months ago. Now John wasn't exactly sure how this death, hereafter, and mated souls thing worked, but he was pretty sure once both parties were dead that they . . . somehow reunited.

The stars surrounding John twinkled, the Universe alive with reborn life, giving and receiving. An existence unlike anything he could have ever imagined as a child. Sure, every culture had their beliefs about what happened after death. For him, Heaven was normally somewhere in the mix. But he was never quite certain of that fact. But the idea appealed to him. Almost as much as the idea of a burning, eternal Hell didn't appeal to him. No way did he want to end up like that. Yeah, those Sunday morning guilt sermons were enough to make a wild, rebellious teen rethink certain choices.

_All life is transitory, a dream. We all come together in the same place, at the end of time. If I don't see you again here, I will see you in a little while, in a place where no shadows fall._

Well, he was here. Had been since Chimir's tumor came out of remission with a vengeance. No one had expected that. But his deterioration had been quick. He didn't suffer long or linger. A matter of weeks and it was done—John separating from the man. Two souls finally parted, going their divergent ways, both unwilling to leave Delenn alone, but knowing neither could stay.

That had been ten years ago.

And John had waited. Learned much of what the Minbari thought about life after death to be eerily accurate. He had indeed been cast back to the Universe, a single point of light with thoughts and feelings still intact.

_We believe that the Universe itself is conscious in a way we can never truly understand. It is engaged in a search for meaning, so it breaks itself apart, investing its own consciousness in every form of life. We are the Universe, trying to explain itself._

Delenn's words, her beliefs, her great understanding of self. John had never forgotten. Not one single moment with her, or her vision for a future—that admittedly—John could never quite fathom when he was alive.

So, John was now part of the conscious Universe, unbelievably able to "mentally link" with others who had come before and after him. Family. Friends.

Spiritual reunions made possible by a wonderful, indescribable design. The Universe: complex to the doubting, cynical mind, but simple in its non-pretentious singularity.

And then there was Delenn. The most important spiritual link John wanted to make. But the one connection that seemed to be blocked, making John think about old-fashioned Human telephones. John was calling but Delenn wasn't answering, her "phone" disconnected, shut off, out of order. Or whatever the hell 21st century Humans called it. The bottom line—Delenn's star, her soul had made no effort to connect with his.

Frustrated, John searched for the one star in the Universe he thought could help him. He'd done it before—against his better judgment—and John hoped he could be of assistance again.

After an eternity of impatiently waiting for the link to connect, John felt the familiar tingle that always streaked through him when a link was formed, each star growing brighter with the connection.

John wanted to say, "It's about damn time," but that was no way to address a man who more than likely had the answers he sought. Instead, John swallowed the anxiety tearing away at him, striving for calm. "Where in the hell is she?"

Okay, that didn't exactly come out right. In fact, it came out all wrong. John knew better, but dammit, he needed answers. He needed Delenn.

But the voice that reached out to him, stroking him like a wayward child, was soft, gentle. "Far away from here, John, I'm afraid."

"But I thought—"

John gasped as the link morphed into a visual connection, the non-reality roiling past him like a war cruiser at warp speed. This, John hadn't quite gotten used to, the nausea still caught him, making him want to barf from the swift optical illusion.

But there he was. The man he'd called. Looking different from the last time he'd seen him—decades ago, Chimir's garden.

"Valen."

The bald man nodded, his all-white robe flowing in a wind that did not exist. John could see Jeffrey Sinclair in the military set of the shoulders, the thin line of his mouth. But the image staring back at him was distinctly Minbari, the eyes the giveaway. And the voice, definitely the voice. Or more accurately, the vague, too damn philosophic words.

"Why Valen this time? You came to me as Jeffrey Sinclair, a crisp Babylon 5 uniform your choice of menswear back then."

A crinkle at the edges of his lips. A smile?

"You needed to see and hear from Sinclair then."

"And now?

Another crinkle. Definitely not a smile.

He paused, looked out a faux window, the bridge of the White Star a manifestation of Valen's, not John's, imagination. And John wondered of all the things they could create with their "minds," why Valen would place them on a White Star. Hell, he'd married Delenn on a White Star. Taken his last flight on one. Died on one as well. No way was this a coincidence. John wasn't up for the emotional gymnastics.

"I want her here as well, John." Valen turned away from the window, his eyes stark and haunted. "She's gone to a place where neither one of us can reach her."

Valen's voice had gone utterly soft, like silk on velvet. Even when he'd come to him as Sinclair so long ago, John had noticed one thing. Whenever he spoke of Delenn, there was such tenderness in his voice. Like there was now. But also concern, perhaps even a sprinkling of fear.

"I thought all souls came here. That's what Delenn told me. That's what you assured me would happen when I made that damn pact with Chimir."

A look of guilt crossed Valen's face, and John's non-existent stomach began to knot. "What aren't you telling me? Where's Delenn."

"You look like you did when you took command of Babylon 5. Before you knew where true evil lived."

Valen created the form John was currently taking. Earthforce uniform perfectly cut to fit a form that John had long since forgotten could be so strong, tall, and formidable. That was how he'd felt when he sat in the captain's chair, taking in all that had been handed to him, left in his care. But he was also afraid back then. To be honest, he simply didn't want to fuck up. Well, he had, in the most royal way possible. But he'd also flown, higher than he ever could've imagined. Ever would've without Delenn by his side.

"You created this," John pointed to himself. "Why?"

"It's how I see you, where it all began for you and Delenn." Valen walked closer to John, the space between his absent brows pinching. "She's in trouble and I don't know how to help her."

Back to Delenn. Good.

"What kind of trouble?"

Valen shook his head, his bonecrest elegant, ridges deep and distinctive.

"There is one other place a soul may find itself after death." Valen raised one long, pale finger when John made to interrupt, wanting to argue the point that the Universe was vast and all that existed after death. All souls had no choice but to go where no shadows fall. Right?

"Minbari rarely speak of the between Universe."

"The what?"

Valen sat in the pilot's seat, for the first time appearing more like an Earthforce Captain than a Minbari prophet.

"Between the living world and the Universe as you now know it, is a slither of existence Minbari have come to call the place where shadows fall, or the between Universe. "

"Delenn never—"

"Spoke of it?" John nodded his head. "Few do, even among the Religious Caste. But Delenn, like all Minbari, know of its existence."

"Are you saying Delenn is there?" This made no sense to John. Why in the world would Delenn's soul go there instead of here?

"I'm saying Delenn was ready to die but not quite ready to live."

_What in the hell did that mean? Damn, cryptic Minbari._

"Speak plainly. I want to know why my wife is in some in between Universe. She always told me we would meet again where no shadows fall. I'm here; why in the hell isn't she? She died three months ago. I felt it. Hell, I daresay, as her ancestor, you felt it too."

Valen grimaced then nodded. "I feel them all." Grim eyes locked on John's. "All that have my blood, even the smallest amount. Their births. Their joy. Their heartache. Their deaths. All. Delenn most of all."

"Because she's most like you?"

Valen nodded.

_Damn. Hell of an afterlife._

"She lived a long time, John."

"I know." Weird. He'd died prematurely; whereas, Delenn . . .

"I don't think you truly do. Long life isn't always a blessing. In Delenn's case, I'm afraid she came to view it as a curse. A punishment perhaps. A sign of the Universe's disapproval."

Punishment? Disapproval?

Now it was John who looked out the bridge window, seeing nothing but miles of morbidly empty space.

"Because of her decision after Dukhat was killed by my people?" What else did Delenn have to be guilty about? John couldn't imagine. And hell, hadn't she atoned enough for that grief-filled cry of "No mercy?" Why should she continue to suffer after she'd spent her entire life in the service of others?

"Have you forgiven her for finding love and happiness with Chimir?" The question was asked with no inflection, but John felt as if he'd been slammed with a denn'bok to the gut.

"W-what?"

The two men faced off, Valen appearing much taller and menacing than before.

"You said you wanted Delenn to find peace, happiness. Was that a lie? Or did you simply feel so guilty about leaving Delenn alone that you felt you had a little atoning to do yourself?"

John's eyes narrowed, then his image shifted, adding a few pounds, gray hair at the temples, and brown goatee with flecks of silver. This was how he saw himself. Not the naïve, grieving widower who'd first taken charge of Babylon 5, but the man that had returned from death for Delenn, survived torture, and reclaimed Earth for the innocents. No, he wasn't the man Valen tried to paint him as. No more. Never again.

Valen gave an unimpressed scoff, a glimmer of amused humanity lurking behind those penetrating eyes. "How you appear matters not, Sheridan." He touched one finger to the area over his heart, then his head. "It's what's in here that matters most. She cannot come to you the way you are now."

John's head was reeling. How had Valen switched this around on him? John shook his head, body, even an imagined one, bogged down by the possibility that there was more than a little shred of truth to the Minbari's words.

"I-I knew she would grow to love Chimir. I—" he sucked in a fortifying breath "—just didn't realize how much Delenn would love him." John found the nearest chair—the co-pilot's seat—and dropped his confused load.

John gazed up at Valen's stoic face and wondered how he'd managed to keep it together over the long years. He gave himself a mental shrug, the man had his secrets, ones John was loathe to excavate. But still . . .

"You said I would have no consciousness once I merged with Chimir. That he would be dominant to my submissive."

Valen's face softened. A little. "I said the merging of two souls in one body was unprecedented. We didn't truly know what would happen." The man had the audacity to shrug when he admitted, "You were a willing test dummy. For all intents and purposes, it was a successful experiment. Besides," Valen arched a non-existent brow at John, "it was your idea, not ours."

_Ours? We?_

Yeah, Lorien and Valen had used the plural before with John, those many years ago when he'd been allowed to return to Minbar, taking up residence in the body of a Warrior Castemen. Chimir of the Star Riders Clan, Delenn's former lover and first love.

But John had always thought there was a third member of the infamous "we" clan. The Minbari had a weird affinity for numbers divisible by three. But that train of thought was a dead end street. So he doubled back to the issue at hand.

"There were times," John admitted, wishing he could erase the intimate images, "when Chimir was totally relaxed, content. Sometimes I could see through his eyes. A second or two if I was lucky. Minutes if I wasn't."

"He made her happy, John." This time Valen's face was smooth with compassion. "We all wanted that for Delenn. She wanted it for herself, but didn't know how to do so without betraying her feelings for you."

"Well," John said, a sudden burst of anger lacing his tone, "she sure as hell got over that, didn't she?" And damn, where in the hell had that come from?

Valen sighed and backed away. "With that attitude, you'll never be able to link with Delenn, help her find her way from the between Universe."

John straightened. "If she wanted to be with me, then she would be here." His voice sounded certain, but nothing else about him was.

"You know nothing. And unless you get a handle on your conflicted feelings, Delenn will be lost to us forever."

"I have a handle on my emotions, god dammit." John jumped from the seat and began to pace the small area. "Can't you see, I'm boiling over with checked emotion? I'm oozing it in fact from every dead cell of this fake body."

John ranted louder the longer Valen calmly ignored him, waiting for the dumb Human to be done with his temper tantrum. And John did feel like a stupid, childish oaf when he'd finished. Again, finding the chair and sitting.

"She's lost," Valen said, as if John hadn't just had a friggin mental breakdown. "Emotionally lost," the Minbari clarified. "Delenn knows exactly where she is and why she is there. What she probably doesn't know is how to move past that Universe, or whether she is truly deserving to do so. We know she is, of course, but she must believe it as well."

Valen also retook his seat, face pale and drawn. "Even if she solves the mystery that is herself and reaches out to you, she'll meet the wall you've built around your soul."

"I haven't—"

"No more self-deception, John, this is Delenn's afterlife we're talking about. We could lose her forever because of her guilt and your jealousy."

Jealousy? Was he jealous? Of her love for Chimir? Of the intimacy they'd shared over their decades long union? Of the woman-lost way she looked upon Chimir when the Grim Reaper came calling for him? The very way John never wanted her to see him—weak and lost.

So he'd fled, taken that last Sunday drive. In a White Star that looked too much like the one Valen had conjured. Definitely not a coincidence.

"I want her to want me."

"She does."

"How can she?"

"She does."

"Delenn and Chimir were married much longer than the twenty years I gave her. I can't compete with that."

"You don't have to, never did."

John gripped the arms of the chair, hearing Delenn's honey rich laughter whenever Chimir would swing her around in his arms, her brown and silver hair tickling her husband's face, making them both laugh with joy.

Had John ever made her laugh like that? He hoped so, but he honestly couldn't remember. It had been so long since they'd last been together, nearly eighty years in fact. How could she still view him as her soulmate? Still want him?

Valen touched John's arm, pulling him back from the cliff he was about to plunge himself over.

"She committed herself to you, Sheridan. If you doubt her choice, so will she. If Delenn thinks there's nothing for her here but pain and regret, she'll succumb to the shadows. And when that happens, her soul will be forever lost."

_Forever lost. No!_

"What can I do?"

"Be patient, my friend. Delenn was always good at fighting her own demons. I have faith she'll manage. But when she's ready to come home, you have to be ready for her. If you aren't . . ."

Yeah, Valen didn't have to finish. John knew. He would lose her, forever this time. But what John didn't know was what to do with his jealousy, his fear.

He wanted Delenn, as much as he'd ever had. Valen assured him she wanted him just as desperately. But did she only feel that way because she'd pledged herself to him when they took vows?

If at all possible, Delenn never broke her word. Never. Not in all the years he'd known her, even when following through was clearly a pain in her very proper Minbari behind. Was he simply a follow through? A promise she was loathe to break because it went against Minbari norms of proper behavior?

Shit, he hoped not. But, damn, it had been a marriage and eight decades ago. Even an honorable woman like Delenn couldn't be expected to hold a promise that long.

Above all else, Delenn of Mir was as honorable as they came. And, dammit, John didn't want her coming to him out of honor. He wanted more, so very much more.

But did she? Or had Chimir, over their long marriage together, displaced John as the calling of Delenn's heart.

If so, what would eternity be without her? God, John Sheridan didn't want to find out.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	3. The Triumvirate

**Chapter 3: The Triumvirate**

Darkness surrounded them, held them, molding them in a bond more loyal than friendship, deeper than love, brighter than a stellar explosion. And so the three radiant stars, fixed at three different points in the universe, beamed for the planets below, a triangular guide for those souls ready to pass beyond the rim, seeking the place where no shadows fall.

Not that all believed or even knew of such a place. Beliefs were as different and plentiful as the fish in an ocean. Yet they learned, becoming swift believers, the transition into the afterlife, the immersion back into the universe, an amazing teacher.

Yet they'd failed to guide one home. In all their long years, a sheep had gotten away from the ever-watchful sheepherders. Wandering off, following the wolf's trail into danger, to a place where only shadows dwelled and lost souls fall for eternity.

This was not acceptable, an error that must be set right. And set right soon; or that lone, vulnerable sheep would be no more, forever changed by the shadows of the heart, shadows of the mind, shadows of the soul.

And so light years away, but of a linked mind, they came together to plot someone else's troth.

_She's still in that wretched place._

_We know. _The two thoughts merged, answering in a singular, understanding in the plural.

_What do you suggest we do?_

Pause. One second. Two. Three.

_If we leave them to their own devices, I fear time will become our enemy._

_It is already our enemy, one that cannot be slowed, halted, or defeated. _

_True, but like a tide, it's inevitable and predictable. It will come when it comes._

_So, we can either meekly await its arrival, permitting it to wash us away in its filth and silt or . . ._

_Or simply step aside, denying the beast its meal._

_So I ask again. What are we to do?_

_Set candles of light before them._

_Ah, I see; a path._

_Yes, one for them and them alone._

_Which candles?_

Many stars around them shimmered and turned in their direction, as if requesting to be one of the candles of light, candles of hope, candles of faith.

An electrical smile reached from one to the other, then out to the other stars, a silent "Thank you," sent.

The other stars shifted away from the three, understanding that they would be needed later. If all went well, that was.

_We have many from which to choose._

_Yes, but there is only one correct selection and one opportunity to get this right. If we don't . . ._

_Yes, we know. We'll get it right. We won't fail them._

_But what if they fail themselves by taking the wrong path?_

_All we can do is set the candles before them; they have to be the ones to walk the path, to make the journey of fear and doubt. _

_They have to be strong._

_Yes._

_They have to be willing._

_Yes._

_They have to love themselves. But love each other more._

_Yes._

_So we are in agreement. But we have yet to select._

Pause. One second. Two. Three.

_Two candles for John Sheridan._

_Yes, two candles, but complimentary flames._

_Coping and dying? Are we in agreement?_

_Yes._

_Good, now for Delenn._

Pause. One second. Two. Three.

_Three candles for Delenn of Mir._

_Of course._

_Friendship, family, forgiveness._

_In that order? Perhaps—_

_We have to do this right. We cannot rush her by going to the flame of forgiveness first. For within that one candle of light is the echo of another._

_Guilt._

_Yes, guilt. We must tread lightly, although time is but a shadow away._

_Of course, you are right. I just—_

_We all love her; want her safely here with us, as one of us._

_I know, but I've waited so long, could do nothing more over the years than watch and wait and pray._

_Then pray some more, my friend, and we will join you. _

And they did, united as one, Delenn and John their souls of focus.

The prayer that began with three blinking stars, gleaming as single entities, cascaded on bands of light and energy, others quickly joining, adding their own unique essence, until the universe from three divergent but bonded points was awash in light.

Light. Energy. Prayer. Hope.

For them. For love. For life.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	4. Coping and Dying

**Chapter 4: Coping and Dying**

Part 1

John Sheridan died a long time ago. He wished he could remember how many years, the exact date of his death; his crossing from man to mist to myth. But his soul, well, his soul refused to recall the precise moment when his light flickered and extinguished like so many flames before him. No, John Sheridan didn't truly want to remember his death, for to remember meant he had to feel. And if he felt, then he would hurt. And if he allowed the pain to come, to wash over him, a tiny pebble in an unforgiving wind, he would simply crumble, the wind casting his remains to the farthest reaches of the Universe.

If John had a body, he would've laughed. For there were no winds in the Universe, just darkness, silence, and time. So much time. Endless loneliness.

And John Sheridan, surrounded by thousands of stars, never felt so alone in his life or in death. How could he?

_Delenn. _The name vibrated around him, an echo from long ago.

_Delenn. _The name burrowed inside him. Raw. Sweet. Bitter.

_Delenn. _The name singed the star, compelling his soul to remember, to never forget, to never give up hope.

And John had given up hope. It had been months since he felt Delenn's soul leave her body—since her death. Yet, her soul hadn't reached out to his. No, Delenn was still out there somewhere. A place where John could not follow. No chance of rescue. No help. Just her. Alone.

Like him. So alone.

And perhaps that was the fate he deserved, to exist with only half a soul.

The moment the depressing thought formed, John felt the electrical pull. Soft and coaxing. John knew it well, but he wasn't in the mood. Not now, not for her.

The tug grew stronger. Their bond gave her a direct link to him. But he could ignore it; he had in the past.

Stronger. Harder. Determined. She never requested his presence with such urgency before. And their link, nor her, was so strong as to compel him to do her bidding. Yet today, the force on him was strangely penetrating, unusually powerful, and annoyingly persistent.

Giving in, John went; his star not happy with the intrusion. Wallowing in Delenn's abandonment and his loss was an act best done alone.

But he went, led like a trained poodle that wanted nothing more than to bite the hand of the smiling kid holding the leash.

Just when John could take it no more, his surrounding brightened before him. Darkness and solitude gave way to artificial lighting, blue and yellow painted walls, and a redhead.

"Hello, John."

John brought his hands up, then looked down at his legs. He had a body. John felt strong, young, invincible. The way he did as a man of his twenties. A man too young and inexperienced to realize that invincibility was a high-stakes game that only dumbasses and the insane betted on.

John didn't bother with searching the room for a mirror or something to show him the image she'd created. She settled on the image of him she most liked. He could alter himself if he wanted; he'd done so before. But really, what was the point? If she preferred to see him this way then so be it. He wouldn't be here long.

"Hello, Anna."

She smiled at him, and she too appeared much younger. Like she did when they'd first met. _Freshness and beauty personified. _But that was ages ago. As old as the room they were standing in.

John glanced around. It was Anna's apartment, the one she'd shared with his sister, Liz. He'd spent many a day and night in the overpriced, undersized flat. She'd even gotten the height right, the ceiling only two inches higher than John's six two height.

He'd always liked the place though, it smelled of daisies, chocolate chip cookies (his favorite), and the future.

But this was an illusion; a trip down memory lane John had no interest in taking.

He squared his shoulders and asked, "Why have you brought me here, Anna?"

She smiled. The same sweet, shy smile she gave him whenever he asked her out on a date.

And she pulled at his heart, made him see her as the girl she had been, the woman she would grow into, and not the thing the Shadows had turned her in to.

John shook his head. No, he remembered that all too well.

"Just tell me."

Anna moved closer, her flower print dress reminding John of Kansas in spring. She was so lovely. Always had been; her red hair and pale skin gave her an ethereal glow John used to find enchanting. Now, John saw only the woman who'd he'd failed to protect.

Standing before him, Anna reached out, her soft fingers finding his. She twined them, her delicate hand so familiar, so soft, so vulnerable. Then she smiled up at him, her eyes alight with love.

John wanted to rip his hand away from her. To turn from the love and trust her eyes revealed. He didn't deserve her love, want her trust.

"I was taught," she began, her voice a soothing massage, "like you, that upon death the soul would travel to one of two places. Heaven or hell." Yeah, Sunday morning service had pounded that bit of faith into him. "I never imagined any other afterlife."

Neither had he; although, they both had studied other cultures. Hell, one didn't have to go beyond Earth to discover various ideas about life after death. But the idea of a Heaven and Hell seemed to be the most prevailing understanding. If only it was that simple.

Anna laughed. "In the end, John, I guess it doesn't really matter what one believes during life, death is the ultimate enlightenment, the great teacher of all things cosmic and eternal."

Yes it was.

Anna released his hand and stepped away from him. She moved to the three-sectioned sofa, sat, and bid him to join her.

Reluctantly, he did, leaving one cushion space between them.

"I don't remember my death, John."

He knew. She'd told him before. Why was she telling him again?

"I remember the planet, the _Icarus_ . . ." She looked down, her hands suddenly gripping the folds of her dress. "The creatures you call the Shadows. Yes, I remember them well, their voices grinding in my head, toxic thoughts and vile intentions."

John was doing some grinding of his own, his back teeth working with barely repressed anger.

She'd died alone. But not truly dead. No, they'd used her. Her mind. Her body. Her memories. But John had been the one to finally and fatally kill her. Not the Shadows, but him.

"I know; I'm sorry." _More sorry than you will ever know._

Her slim fingers reached for him again, forcing John to unfurl the fists he didn't know he'd formed.

"After I died, I had a lot of time to think." Anna chuckled, her eyes twinkling. "In death, I guess we do all the thinking we should've done while we were alive. Then, we have the erroneous belief that we don't have enough time to talk, to think, to do. Here—" she gestured to the room, but John knew she meant the Universe—"we have endless time to ponder our mistakes. To even make new ones. And then more than enough time to fix them."

John could see some truth in her words, but they mostly rang hollow. He wished she would just get to the point so he could leave. Really, what good does rehashing old wounds would do? Some things were just better left dead and buried.

Like him.

Like her.

Like his bond to Delenn.

Anna tightened her grip on his hand, compelling him to focus. He did, giving her his full, uninterested attention.

"What is this all about?" He knew he sounded weary, in spite of the impossibility of true fatigue.

"This is about you." She gave him a pointed look. "And Delenn."

John did pull away from her touch then and stood.

Anna remained where she was, her eyes sympathetic, as if he was the saddest creature she'd ever laid eyes on.

Dammit, he didn't want her god damn sympathy.

"You need to get past this, John, or you'll lose her forever."

Yeah, that's what Valen . . . Sinclair had said. But it wasn't him. It was Delenn. She was the one who didn't join him where no shadows fall. She was the one who married and loved another while claiming to still mourn him. She was the one who—

"There's nothing for me to get past. I'm perfectly fine. Been fine. Will always be fine."

_Pathetic liar. You haven't been fine for longer than you want to admit._

"It's not your fault."

John stopped his pacing and whirled to face his second wife.

"What wasn't?"

She stood but didn't advance. Good, he really needed his space, and she seemed to understand that.

"My death, John, it wasn't your fault."

Yeah, right. The woman was delusional. Of course it was his fault.

"I blew up the planet. I killed you, Anna."

She shook her head, red locks falling in to resolute eyes.

He stepped towards her. "I killed you. Me. Not the Shadows. I did it."

More head shaking.

Dammit, the woman was stubborn, as hard-headed as any Narn he'd met.

"No, John, it wasn't you."

She sighed. "I took that mission. If you recall, you asked me not to go, to select an assignment closer to where you were stationed."

John vaguely recalled the conversation. It had been so long ago.

"You thought we were spending too much time apart. You were right, but it was an opportunity I didn't want to slip through my fingers. So many vied for a spot on the crew, but only a prestigious few were selected. I was so proud to be among that elite group."

That John remembered. He was proud of her, too, in spite of the gnawing foreboding he couldn't rid himself of. He'd ignored it, chocked it up to a soldier's paranoia, a husband's concerns. Nothing more. But it was. Damn, it was.

"I should have done more, made you turn down the offer."

Her laughter rang in his ears, an independent woman's mocking ripple of feminist waves colliding into him.

"John, you were married three times." She lightly touched his elbow. "And while that macho, military attitude may have worked with the men and women under your command—" she clicked her tongue, a chiding sound—"the women you chose to marry would never be so cowed. Not Lochley. Not me. And certainly not Delenn."

John huffed, hating that she was right. Hell, what man in his right mind would marry women who did whatever in the hell they wanted to because they thought it was the right thing to do? That had led to a divorce, an untimely death, and . . .

Twenty years. Not a minute longer.

"You should never have gone to Z'ha'dum."

She released his elbow.

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty." She sighed, her face suddenly wistful. "Bad things happen, John. I didn't want to die, didn't want to leave you alone."

She moved away from him, her slim shoulders slumping then stiffening when she turned to face him again.

"I blamed myself for my death and your sorrow for a long time."

He hadn't known that.

"I can't tell you how many times I wished that I had simply listened to you, heeded your concerns. But I wanted that excavation so badly; wanted to finally make my mark."

John knew the feeling, the _Agamemnon _his opportunity to show he was more than a jarhead, a man worthy to lead.

"As soon as we landed, I knew I would never leave that place alive." She shivered. "The contempt and corruption hung thick in the air, polluting everything in its wretched path. I sensed it; we all did. But we saw nothing." Another hard shiver. "Until it was too late."

John reached for Anna this time, tugging until she accepted his embrace. He enfolded her in his arms, wishing, wishing. Just wishing things could have been different.

"When you blew up the planet, John, my soul was already here. You only destroyed the physical manifestation of me, the only part of me the Shadows could hold, control, use against you."

She snuggled closer, her body soft, tender, tortured.

"We can't out run our fate. We can run; we can hide, we can pretend and ignore. But in the end, it comes for us, whether we are ready or willing. As cruel as it was, John, my fate led me to that ghastly planet. I had choices, options. But I chose Z'ha'dum. And I died."

Anna raised her head from his shoulder. Their eyes met and the twinkle returned. "I also chose you, John. And I lived. I laughed. I loved."

She kissed his cheek. "And you love her. More than you ever loved me."

John made to protest but Anna simply shook her head. "Like I said, there isn't much to do here but think. And it didn't take much thinking to realize that obvious fact."

She stepped out of his embrace and John waited for the sense of loss to overcome him. It didn't. It hadn't since the time he hugged her and wished Anna a safe voyage to Z'ha'dum. Not when she "returned" to him that fateful day aboard Babylon 5. And not when they reunited after his death. That feeling, that warmth she used to evoke by her mere presence was gone, apparently never to return.

"I learned to cope with my death, John, and so must you. You can't continue to blame yourself for my death no more than I could continue to hate you for binding your soul to another."

Hate him? He didn't know she'd felt that way. But damn if he didn't understand. Yeah, he was all over that emotion.

John ran a hand through his hair—thick and dark the way it was when he was but a young man wooing a pretty college student.

But John didn't hate Delenn. He could never hate her. She'd loved him. Gave him a son. Mourned him. For too long. Far too long. Then she'd moved on, gave her heart to someone else. The same way he'd tucked his memories of Anna away, freeing his heart to love again, opening his soul to Delenn.

No, John Sheridan could never hate Delenn. But he was angry. At her. At him. At Chimir. At life. At death.

"I love you, Anna."

And he did. He'd never stopped. Never would. But . . .

She clasped her hands around his. "I know, Johnny, and I love you. When we married, I thought that existence was all there was for us. That once we died that was it; our time together would be truly over."

So had he.

"You never promised me forever, John, and I never expected it."

Her hands were so warm, her words even warmer, thawing the edges of his heart.

"But you and Delenn are different. You two are connected in a way I could never fathom. Beyond time. Beyond space. Beyond life. Beyond death."

Anna's hand found his chest, the placement over a heart that beat only when he thought of Delenn.

"Beyond regret. Beyond grief. Beyond. Anger."

One finger rested on his chin, smooth and beard free.

"Let go of the anger, John, and claim the other half of your soul."

She stepped away, her red hair swirling about her, the shape of Anna Sheridan fading, melding into blackness, the illusion crumbling around them.

John reached for her, suddenly horrified of being alone with his thoughts.

But she was gone, her parting words clipping his conscience before she disconnected their electrical link. "Anger is a lonely fortress, John, keeping you in and Delenn out. Tear it down or live there forever."

Connection broken. John was alone again.

But he didn't want to be alone. No, John wanted . . . He just wanted. Delenn. But he couldn't have her; didn't know how to escape his so-called fortress.

He wanted to though. God knows he wanted nothing more than to do just that. Time, he knew, was not his friend. Had never been kind to him.

Yeah, now that angered John Sheridan.

Time. Limited fucking time. Twenty years and no more. Screw that.

Part 2

John whirled, the jacket of his Earthforce uniform swinging with his swift movement.

He walked and walked, his mind unconsciously forming the image around him. But he paid it no mind; he simply needed to walk, to clear his head, to get away. From himself.

When John finally looked up, he stood in front of his office on Babylon 5. Not caring why he created this particular scenery, John entered, found his old desk, and sat in the familiar chair.

It squeaked, and he smiled. Some things never changed.

John propped his feet on the desk, placed his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes.

_Tired. So tired._

"I've never known you to be the nap-on-the-job kind of guy, Sheridan."

John's eyes snapped opened, his feet quickly thudded to the floor. He frowned at the intruder.

"I didn't invite you here, Michael."

Michael Garibaldi slid from the shadows, his bald head as shiny as ever.

John huffed. "I thought you would've given yourself some hair."

Michael shrugged. "No point pretending. Besides, "he settled in the chair opposite John's desk, "it makes me look dignified."

Not likely. But who was John to judge? He reached up and thumbed his beard. He too had preferences.

"Why are you here?"

John didn't like this. Perhaps he could've shrugged Anna's demanding call off to former wife concern. But Michael appearing, out of the blue, well, that was stretching coincidence a bit far.

"Just thought we could talk. You know."

No, John did not know. But he was beginning to feel manipulated.

"Did Sinclair send you here?"

Michael crossed one leg over his knee. "Not Sinclair exactly."

John was so not in the mood for Michael's coy, Security Chief bullshit.

"Just give me Sinclair's damn message and get the hell out."

Michael tsked, and John refrained from knocking that smug smile off his friend's face.

"It doesn't work that way, John."

Of course it didn't.

John leaned back in his chair, waiting for whatever lesson the "powers-that-be" wanted him to learn. Why not. He had nothing better to do than lament eternity without Delenn.

Michael uncrossed his legs then shook his head as if he didn't quite know why he was there either.

"Do you know how many times I swore I'd never take another drink only to find myself hording booze and lying to family and friends?"

John sat up straight. He knew Michael struggled with his addiction. Hell, it had caused more than one fight between them, threatened their friendship, John's trust.

"More than I'd like to admit," Michael admitted, not waiting for John's reply. "The Twelve-Step Program," he huffed, "easier said than done."

Yeah, John could only imagine. Michael Garibaldi had one of the strongest personalities John had ever known. The man was formidable, but alcohol wasn't a foe easily defeated. Michael had fought that battle and lost. Repeatedly.

"The first step," he said, drawing John's attention, "is admitting that one cannot control one's addiction or compulsion. That was a hard one for me."

It would've been for John as well. Soldiers were taught to always be in control of their fate, their life, their choices. If they ever lost control, that spelled death. For them. For others.

"But you made it, Michael, found your way to the other side."

"I was lucky."

John disagreed. Michael worked hard to regain control, to be something other than what he'd become.

"Not luck, Michael. You beat it, was stronger than your addiction."

Michael shook his head. "I had good friends. Friends like you and Delenn who looked past the irresponsible drunk I'd become and remembered the man I used to be. And then there was Lise."

Lise, Michael's wife, his soul mate. John envied him, that unbreakable bond; the one that drew Michael's soul to Lise's ten years after a heart attack claimed his life. They were together in death as they had been in life, alcohol addiction no longer a daily battle, a cross to bear.

"None of us can do it alone, John. I tried, and I failed."

"What are you trying to tell me, Michael? You no longer have to contend with that addiction."

"True," he admitted with a relieved smile, "but I never forgot the steps. And when I look at you, all stone-faced and sad, I'm reminded of one."

John didn't bother with the obvious question; he knew Michael would tell him. At least when he did, the man could be on his way.

"One important step is to help others who suffer from the same addiction."

John leaned forward, his hands flat on his desk.

"I'm not an alcoholic, never have been. You know that."

"I know. It's not exactly the same but you do need my help. Hell, you need someone's help."

No he didn't. He only needed to be left in peace.

"I believe Anna already beat you to the punch. She came, she talked, she left. Apparently I have anger issues."

"That obvious." A snort. "But that's not what I'm talking about, John."

"No? So what in the hell are you talking about?"

Michael seemed to relax even more in his chair, unfazed by John's bout of frustration.

"Alcoholics have the Twelve-Step Program. I lived and breathed that program, accepted my addiction, my fate to have to deal with that addiction for the rest of my life. But you, my friend, you've never truly accepted your own fate."

"What fate? I'm dead if you haven't noticed, Michael. We're both dead, what fate is left for us?"

"Kubler-Ross, John, the Five Stages of Grief."

John's hands balled into fists, but he remained seated, forcing himself to listen despite the urge to end the link with Garibaldi.

"I always thought you handled your death and rebirth a little too easily. I mean, you actually died, John. Lorien, from what you told me, brought you back to life."

That wasn't exactly what had happened, but it was close enough.

"But twenty years." He shrugged. "It's better than nothing for sure, but it could not have been an easy pill to swallow."

_No it hadn't. But I had no choice. _

But John had enough psychology classes in college to know of Elisabeth Kubler-Ross' theoretical stages of coping and dying.

"Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance." Michael ticked each one off with a finger.

John had never felt so tired. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep the rest of his existence away. Kubler-Ross was long since dead, so why did he feel like she had been haunting him for years, staying quiet and out of sight. But there. Always there with her damn stages.

"How far did you get? Did you even make it past bargaining?"

He had. In truth, he flew right past denial, shoved past anger, and slammed right into bargaining. All of this before he left Z'ha'dum. He'd wanted to live, no matter how long, if he could see Delenn again, have her in his arms, in his life. No, denial, anger, and bargaining were the easy stages. While the last two . . .

"Depression." John stood, unable to stay seated and feign a calm he didn't feel.

Michael stood as well, the casual shirt and slacks fitting his body.

"You never made it to acceptance, did you?"

It wasn't truly a question. That was the reason why Michael Garibaldi, above all others, was here. Who better to understand than a repentant alcoholic?

"If I didn't accept my fate, then how could I expect Delenn and David to? It wasn't fair to them. I got my bargain, my Delenn, my family, my twenty years."

But it still hadn't been enough. The more he got, the more he wanted. The happier his life with Delenn was, the longer he wanted to experience it. It wasn't fair. It simply wasn't fair. He had everything and nothing. How could he ever accept that?

"You pretended, tried to prepare them as best you could. But you never prepared yourself, accepted that you would get no more time with them, with Delenn."

John's knees buckled. Michael's strong arms caught him, holding him, providing the strength John no longer possessed.

He helped John back to his seat, careful eyes watching.

"Thanks; I'm fine now."

No he wasn't. More pretending. More lying. More denial. Perhaps he never made his way through stage one. John almost laughed at that frightening realization.

Anger and acceptance. Coping and dying. How could he manage it all in the limited time Delenn had before her soul was lost to him forever?

John closed his eyes, cutting the route of his burning tears. How long he stayed like that he didn't know, but when Michael spoke John's breath caught at the sudden breaking of silence.

"I always knew Delenn would be the one."

"How?" How could Michael know what had taken him so long to realize?

Michael scratched his bald head and smiled. "You had to see your face, your eyes whenever you looked at or spoke about Delenn. She intrigued you from the start, off-balanced you with that giving but fierce way of hers.

He had a look? No one had ever mentioned that before.

"She was good for you, John, drew you out of your shell, and Delenn out of hers. You both were better, stronger people for having the other. You know, I never believed in this whole business of soul mate's or even the idea of life after death."

Michael snorted and left John on his side of the desk, reclaiming the chair he'd sat in earlier.

"I thought I would die and that would be all Michael Garibaldi wrote. 'That's all folks,' and all that. Nothing more. No me. No Lise. No nothing."

"But the Minbari had it right."

"Yeah, who would've thunk it? They had it right. And, I for one am glad they did. I wouldn't trade more time with Lise for all the Looney Tunes and whiskey in the universe."

Michael leaned in, moving the chair closer to the desk, closer to John.

"But you, my friend, you're throwing it all away. Delenn loves you. I was there after you died. I saw how your death ripped her apart, leaving crater sized wounds where you had once been."

He moved the chair again, this time directly next to John. Michael's stare was hard, unforgiving.

"She mourned you for a damn long time, John, and it hurt like hell to watch her pain. And, yeah, I was there when she took vows with Satai Chimir. She loved him, too. He was good for her, made Delenn smile, something she'd deprived herself of after your death."

John wanted to scoot away, shut out Michael's words, but he couldn't. He knew this was something he needed to hear, to know, to understand.

"She was happy with him, John. You must accept that. She deserved that happiness and Chimir gave it to her. But . . . she didn't give him all of her."

John's spine stiffened. She had given all of herself to Chimir. Like Michael said, she'd loved him, was happy with him.

"I think—"

"She didn't, John, trust me. This I know."

How could he possibly know? Unless . . .

"She told you this?"

"Hell no."

"Then how?"

"Susan. She told Susan and . . . well, you know how that goes."

"Delenn would never reveal such a thing unless it was true," John said, feeling the first embers of hope.

"No, they were tighter than a fat lady in a corset," Michael agreed. "Susan knew all. She was the holder of Delenn's secrets."

"Someone could've just told me this. Susan, perhaps."

Yeah, his former commander could've, should've opened her big mouth and enlightened him.

"You have to learn your own lessons, John. Knowing is only part of the battle. You have to earn the rest. We're all here for you, but you have to want the connection more than you want to hold on to the pain of death, the sense of betrayal at Delenn's marriage, the guilt over Anna's death, and the misguided notion that you need to suffer as a result."

Michael stood, ran a hand around the collar of his shirt, and walked towards the exit.

"Move past depression, John, so you can accept your death. Only then can you live. Only then will Delenn see your star as the beacon she needs. You can bring her home, John . . . if your star is bright enough to show her the way."

Michael stepped into the hallway. "Is your star, your love bright enough, John, to guide Delenn to where no shadows fall?

Was it?

John jumped from his chair, feeling lightheaded. He had some thinking to do. No, he corrected himself; he had some healing to do.

"_Is your star, your love bright enough?"_

God, he hoped so.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	5. If I shall die before I wake

**Chapter 5: If I shall die before I wake**

The concept of time no longer had any meaning to Delenn. There was no sun or moon to guide her from one hour to the next, from one day to the next. No stars, no tides, no time, no Delenn. Just endless blackness, unbearable bleakness, indefinable shadows of lost loves, corrosive bonds, shattered promises.

And while Delenn had chosen this fate, this path, a part of her, the shadow of hope yet to be obliterated by the other shadows, hadn't quite abandoned her. No, its flicker, a tiny, dying flame, remained, a beacon, a symbol, a Phoenix threatening to rise again.

But Delenn had long since turned her back on the Universe, believing it had shied from her first, taking all she loved, all she cared for, all she would die to protect, to keep with her. Irrational, unfair she knew. Yet the heart rarely made sense. The heart simply did as the heart did. Leaving the mind to catch up or be left immeasurably behind.

But where did that leave the soul? Abandoned? Lost? Confused?

Or perhaps the soul was swept away in the current, pulled by a force it couldn't name or define. Kidnapped by emotions so deep, so complex, so potent that they only existed at the atomic level. Neutrons, protons, and electrons circling the magnetic core, drawn to the pulsing heat, bending and manipulating, fusing and forming bonds meant to last.

Or so Delenn had thought. Some bonds, apparently, only lasted the breadth of a cycle, in Delenn and John's case, twenty years. And no more.

So Delenn drifted, surrounded by shadows of her own making, shadows that offered no quarter. Shadows that had become leeches, sustaining themselves off her misery and guilt, becoming bloated while Delenn's soul slowly withered, taking her closer to her final death.

And how in the midst of such a frontal assault, Delenn could find hope, she did not know. But for the first time since arriving at this desolate place, Delenn sensed a presence other than her own.

Haven't not enough soul energy to create an image of herself, Delenn remained in her electrical state. She didn't want that reminder. Nor was it necessary, for the presence she'd sensed didn't take "physical" form either. Yet she knew who had joined her, although she knew not how.

"_It's been a long time."_

Ah, that voice of old. So long ago. Too many years to count, but Delenn hadn't forgotten. She would never forget, her electrical spirit lifting, if even a tiny bit.

"_You shouldn't be here, Susan."_

A laugh, strong and bittersweet. "_No, it is you, my stubborn Minbari, who shouldn't be here."_

A familiar charge. Minbari, according to most other races, were indeed stubborn. Delenn found it a prevalent trait among her people, and yes, even within herself.

"_Perhaps that is the reason why we became friends, Susan, for I've never known a more stubborn Human than you, my friend."_

"_Am I?"_ Susan asked, her electrical spirit drawing closer, so close Delenn could feel the force of the woman's star, her own meager in comparison.

"_Stubborn?"_

"_No, your friend? Am I, Delenn?"_

It was a pointless question from a woman too intelligent to pose such a query. The answer a given.

Instead of answering that question, Delenn responded to the unasked one. _"It is not our bond of friendship that set me on this path, Susan. Indeed, for many years it was the only evidence that my heart remained still."_

"_John then? Chimir?"_

Delenn didn't immediately respond. It had been too long since she'd had anyone in which to confide. Susan's death had taken a toll on Delenn she would never share with her friend. Susan, like so many others, had simply grown old and died. And Delenn remained. She always remained.

"_Both."_ A simple but complex answer. Delenn's life, even her death, fell in to both categories, a duality of want and guilt. Always guilt. _"If you're here to tell me to move on, to go to the place where no shadows fall, I can't."_

"_I'm here only as your friend, Delenn. No lectures. No arguments. Just friendship."_ Pause. Then, _"What is it you need from me?"_

Delenn thought, not able to remember the last time she wanted anything other than a quick death. Shameful, dishonorable she knew, but death of the heart often preceded death of the mind, of the body.

Finally, Delenn said, _"Just your company, Susan. Just your company. I've missed you so."_

"_You've never asked for much, Delenn."_

No, Susan was wrong. Delenn asked, she'd prayed and pleaded. And she'd received—John then Chimir. No, asking was never Delenn's issue, dealing with the consequences of the Universe's response had been.

"_I don't know how long I can stay, but whatever time I have is yours."_

Delenn didn't expect more than that. Susan really shouldn't be in his place of ever-encroaching shadows of despair. She belonged in the light, even though she'd known so much darkness.

"_Who will come after you?"_ Delenn knew there would be others, two more in fact. Powers greater than Susan Ivanova was at work here, and Delenn believed she knew the engineer of this reunion. And for a Minbari, life and death surrounded the number three.

"_I'm friendship. That's all I know. But I suspect you're right. Friendship alone won't convince you. You're far too stubborn for that. For once I just wish—"_

"_I thought you said no lectures, no arguments."_

Susan laughed; a wonderful sound Delenn had missed. _"I did promise that, didn't I?"_

"_You did, and I intend to hold you to that promise."_

And silence drifted between the old friends, a companionable silence of understanding, of trust, of friendship.

Delenn had forgotten how good it felt to have a true friend and not the worshippers that had flocked to her over the years. Nice, well-meaning people with gracious respect and exuberant questions, people who only saw her as "Delenn the Wise" instead of simply Delenn, only ever Delenn.

So between these women, these sisters by choice, "Delenn the Wise" and "Ivanova the Strong" did not exist.

And somewhere, in a place Delenn found herself constantly dreaming about, there was "The Blessed Sheridan." Her John. Forever John.

From one timeless moment to the next, Susan's energy was replaced by one much more aligned with Delenn's own.

Waking her from her lethargy, it wrapped around her, invisible arms pulling Delenn close, holding her the way he always did when she was lost and alone. Her rock. Her son. Her David.

Tears that shouldn't exist began to fall. And fall. And fall. And fall.

They, too, were absorbed, combining with the electrical current running from Delenn and to David, a safety net for her soul.

And David simply held Delenn, her nonexistent face pressed to his nonexistent heart. But she heard . . . felt the beats, the thumping, the flow of blood and oxygen, the strength. The life that had seeped from his body three years ago, a mother's pain that had yet to heal.

There were no words to describe such grief. A mother forced to give last rights to her only child. A boy that had grown into a magnificent man, proving in his own quiet way that he was not a mistake of the Universe but a miracle for future generations.

His death, Delenn's last reason to live, his presence here an incalculable motivator to fight the shadows, the past, the guilt within her very conflicted soul.

"_Va'sala." _Mother

The word broke Delenn's heart, and the tears came that much more, her own heart forming and beating out a ragged symphony of discordant cords. But it beat in time with David's, melding and mixing, crystallizing and clarifying the edges of her battered soul, blistered heart.

"_Va'sala."_ David said again, stroking newly grown hair, whispering in freshly formed ears, kissing tear-streaked cheeks. _"I need you. Va'mala, Father, needs you. Please come home. Minsa'fel." _Family.

Minsa'fel. Yes, John and David were her family. And Delenn understood David's plea, his own pain. If Delenn stayed here, in this most ignoble of places, they would never be a family again. Indeed, John and David had gone beyond the rim to the place where no shadows fall. As had Susan, and probably all of Delenn's family and friends. Only she remained, here where lost souls dwelled.

_Friendship. Family. Hope._

But there was still something missing, something keeping her tethered to the cold, wretched darkness of doom and despair. Something she couldn't let go of; or perhaps it was something that wouldn't let go of her.

And from one exhale to the next, David was gone, leaving a physically formed Delenn in his wake. And with the body came all the emotional aches she'd tried to dislodge, shadows of her guilt-ridden self swarming in and surrounding her. A vagrant shroud lapped at the star begging for birth, for release, grabbing at the glowing embers of renewed hope, tearing at flesh made whole by a son's love, a son's need, a son's prayer to Va'sala.

More shadows came. And more. And more. Suffocating. Gorging themselves on fear made manifest. And just when Delenn thought she would succumb, when her slither of hope would be no more, strong hands found her, reaching in and taking hold.

The tug-of-war only lasted three screams of "No, you cannot have her. Release my sala or face my wrath."

Then Delenn was free, body crushed against the hard chest of . . . Chimir.

"My sala," he'd said. His wife.

Yes, she was. Or rather, she had been.

Chimir was Delenn's third. From the moment Susan arrived, she'd known the third would be him. Her mala, her mate, her husband.

He hugged her, Chimir's embrace warm and possessive. And Delenn returned the gesture, holding him just as fiercely, guilt and longing blinding her as tears formed and fell.

And he continued to hold her, whispering words of love in her ear, his own tears falling.

"You shouldn't be here." The first words he'd spoken, voice thick with emotion, body as solidly comforting as she'd remembered.

"So I've been told."

"Yet you remain. Why, Delenn?"

Finally, Chimir released her, stepping back just far enough so they could see each other clearly. And while Delenn knew not how she appeared to him, from her vantage point, Chimir was the embodiment of the man she'd married decades ago: healthy, strong, and spirited, a warrior with the heart of a poet. The man who'd carried the soul of her John. A strange coming to terms that Delenn had yet to comprehend.

_Because of you. Because of him_, Delenn silently answered. _Because I could never give you what you desired most. Because you deserved so much better than me._

And he had. Delenn had loved Chimir with all the heart she had to give. But he had loved her completely, unconditionally.

And when Chimir lay on his deathbed, his brain tumor no longer in remission, he'd looked at her with both love and anguish, the question he'd never voiced shining as bright in his eyes as a shooting star. "Will you forsake your promise to John Sheridan and be my soul mate?" his dying eyes whispered. And when she'd stared back at him, Delenn knew what her own revealed: "I'm sorry."

And she was. A part of Delenn wanted to give Chimir what he'd wanted. Her heart cried out to fulfill his dying wish, to take away his pain, to ease his transition into death.

But she couldn't. As much as Delenn loved Chimir, as happy as he'd made her, the vows she'd taken aboard the White Star held her heart and soul in a vice she couldn't and didn't want to be freed from. She was forever John Sheridan's, no matter the lifetime, no matter the place.

Her guilt. But not her shame.

Chimir leaned down and kissed her, a soft, gentle kiss of lips against lips. Not sensual or demanding, but sweet and unbearably loving.

"You never lied to me, Delenn. I always knew your soul would one day seek out John Sheridan's."

"But you'd hoped." Delenn knew he'd had. Sometimes she'd feel his yearning eyes on her when Chimir believed her to be asleep. Sensed his urgency to have her change her mind the more the tumor spread, tainting his mind but never his heart.

"A foolish dream not becoming of a Satai." Chimir shook his head as if to scold himself.

Delenn grasped his hard-knuckled hand and kissed the soft palm. "Dreams are never foolish, Chimir. Those who fail to dream . . . well, they are the foolish ones."

"And what is it you dream, Delenn? Of shadows and darkness? Of family and friends? Of happiness and John Sheridan?"

Like Susan earlier, Chimir knew the answer to his own question. Even still, Delenn had to admit, there was something in the posing, in the hearing, in the mutual understanding.

"Be not afraid, Delenn, to reach for that dream. Be not guilty for seeking the happiness you promised yourself so long ago. You made no such vow to me. There is no dishonor between us."

Chimir kissed her again, more passionate this time but with a taste of something more, something final. "No broken promises or half-truths. Just love and trust and friendship." He titled her head higher, her eyes unable to see anything other than him. "Just forgiveness where none is needed. But if you think you do, then you have mine, Delenn. I forgive you for any perceived wrong you think you've committed against me."

The hand on her chin remained, keeping her face firmly in place, eyes riveted to the man who still held her heart, a heart swiftly rising from the ashes. "I love you. I've loved you since the first day I saw you on the Valen'tha, cowering behind Dukhat's robes, an eagle in doves clothing. And I love you now. Don't dishonor that love, the years we spent together in mated harmony by imagining wrongs where there are none. Don't punish yourself."

One finger wiped away a stray tear, staying to catch the others as they fell. "And don't punish those who love you by staying here, by committing yourself to a fate you don't deserve."

Chimir stepped away from Delenn, his star brighter and even warmer than before. Blinding her. But she couldn't look away, the majesty of the glow captivating, intoxicating, blissful.

Then Chimir pivoted to the right, and Delenn saw it was not his star that radiated so magnificently, but another. It was a beacon of light, a ray of unprecedented illumination cutting through the shadows of her mind, her heart, her recollected soul.

It called to her, hypnotic and all-consuming.

"Go." Chimir's voice.

"Susan?" she asked.

"Yes, friendship."

"David?"

"Family. Life where life shouldn't exist.

"And you?" Her voice sounded faint, fading, yielding to the force, her star preparing to take flight.

"And me, Delenn. Friendship, Family, Forgiveness. Your triluminary. Step into the crystalis one more time Delenn, and find your way home. To him."

"John's light, John's star?"

"Yes, but also those who love you."

"It's so bright. So bright." No sound now, just the light. Only ever the light.

It beckoned.

And Delenn went.

Into the light.

**TO BE CONCLUDED**


	6. I pray to Lord my soul to take

**Chapter 6: I pray to Lord my soul to take**

John Sheridan felt like he'd been pacing and waiting and worrying for a century. His stomach was all balled into knots, and, in truth, he had no stomach or body of which to speak. But he did have a soul . . . and memories and needs and wants.

And what John wanted, what he desperately needed was for Delenn, his starstuff, to return to him.

He'd done all he could to make the reunion happen, to light her path from the depths of darkness and despair to the light awaiting her just beyond the rim.

John could do no more. Delenn would have to do the rest. She'd have to want as much as he did. Meet him half-way. Make the journey and bridge the chasm between their lost souls.

_She's capable, but is she willing? God, I hope so. Don't want to live an eternity without her. Half of my soul lost to vulturous shadows of pain, grief, and loss. _

"Are you sure she's coming?"

John stopped pacing long enough to meet Susan's annoyed gaze. She was as young and beautiful as she was his first day aboard Babylon 5, all dark hair and crisp tones. But the look she was giving him now didn't speak of long ago rank and chain-of-command. No, Susan Ivanova had the fatigued, put-upon look of a woman who was battling her inner self that screamed for her to commit bloody murder.

And those murderous eyes of hers were penetrating and lethal.

John shrugged. Sure, he'd asked her the same question at least twenty times over the last ten minutes. Then ten more times before that. And eight more before that.

"Do you think Delenn understood why you and the others were sent to her?" Yeah, he'd asked her that question just as many times.

Susan snorted and ran a frustrated hand through her loose locks.

"This is Delenn we're talkin' about, John. She's queen of symbolism. I've never known her not to understand something so obvious. Death hasn't affected the woman's brain cells."

She sighed, and, yeah, rolled her eyes at John as if he was the most annoying moron she'd met this side of the rim.

Maybe he was. But, dammit, what was taking Delenn so long?

Everyone was here, in this place between time and space. A fabricated reality where family and friends have gathered, their individual stars of light blending together in a majestic lighthouse of love and wonder.

It had to be enough.

And just when John was seriously beginning to doubt the radiance of his yellow brick road, a star tumbled out of the darkness.

Spiraling out of control, it's trajectory headed right for them. John's body braced for impact, the collision inevitable.

But as the star tumbled end over end, it began to slow and circle. And finally, it came to a complete stop. Hovering above them all.

The other stars looked upon the new arrival, and then at John.

He didn't move. Couldn't breathe. Wouldn't dare hope.

Then the other stars moved, widening the space between them until they'd created a large, empty circle. A vacant spot, an offering, an invitation.

All eyes went back to the trembling, hovering star—expectant but unsure.

Long minutes past, but the circle of life, circle of love remained strong. No one moving, the vacant spot beckoning, wanting to be filled.

Cautiously, the hovering star began its descent. Controlled and steady.

It landed, claiming the spot that was always its right.

Then the crowd converged on the star, swallowing her light but creating a more radiant one in return.

And in the midst of the emotional cavern stood a bewildered, teary-eyed Delenn.

_Beautiful._

"She came." Hoarsely spoken but deeply felt.

Up until the moment she'd come barreling through space, John wasn't quite sure the intervention had worked. _But did she make the trek for me, herself, or the others?_

And there were many others, so many John could barely make out his tiny Minbari in the crowd. But she was there, a simple white robe covering her slim form. Demure and unassuming, with a hint of fragility.

"I told you Delenn would come." Susan gave John a reassuring squeeze to his hand. A hand he hadn't realized had reached for Susan when he'd first spotted what John knew had to be Delenn's shooting star. He needed the strength the Russian could give.

"I was afraid to hope. To believe," he admitted, his eyes never leaving the ever-growing crowd a few feet away, and the woman in the center.

"She never stopped loving you, John."

"She also loves Chimir." It was a hard truth, but one John couldn't ignore, could no longer hold against Delenn. She'd had a right to that love, the companionship Chimir offered, the life and happiness the warrior castemen had brought her. Anything less would've been a cruel fate Delenn did not deserve.

"Chimir was worthy of her love and devotion." Her grip tightened, understanding the painful heat of her honest words. "But she has always been more devoted to you, John. You must understand this. Understand and accept that Delenn . . . well, just look, John."

Susan pointed to the scene before them, points of light everywhere.

Delenn was smiling and crying, silent sobs that shook thin shoulders.

Her parents were there. So were his. His sister and her family as well. Garibaldi. G'Kar. Stephen. Lyta. Londo. Two rows of Babylon 5 crew, present and accounted for. Then there was Zatharas, Lennier, Maya, Chimir, and Neroon. David and his wife stood behind Delenn, David's fingers wrapped in his mother's hair the way he used to do when he was a boy of five.

But there were many others. Markabs and ISA ambassadors. Too many Minbari to count. Most John didn't recognize, was sure he never knew. But they were here, adding their brilliance to the moment, paying homage to a long-lived life.

And it was then John truly saw, really understood.

His heart went out to Delenn then, and his throat constricted, a visceral reaction to all his wife had loved and lost.

"So many." A whisper.

"Too many." Susan's words just as soft, voice no stronger than John's. "She endured much, John."

Yes, he hadn't understood. Couldn't see past his own limited lifespan, shamefully enving Delenn her long life.

_But at what cost? _Well, John could see the cost. The stars surrounding her attested to the cost. _The emotional, psychological cost._

"She knew them, loved them, and had to go on when they died. One by one by one. Family, friends, lovers, all extinguished lights in a Universe that took much but gave much less in return."

Enlightened words from a man whose eyes had been closed for too long. Understanding limited to his singular experience, narrow view, unexpected jealousy.

But the evidence was there, greeting Delenn, welcoming her home, chasing away the last remnants of her shadows.

And watching from a distance, John noticed with a knowing smile, were the men he'd come to think of as the Triumvirate, puller of strings, makers of dreams—Lorien, Dukhat, and Valen.

Susan released his hand and started to walk toward the crowd. A moment later she stopped and looked at him over her shoulder. "Are you coming?"

John shook his head. He couldn't. Not just yet. Not with everyone around.

Susan shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Then she was there, pushing past Lise and Vir, elbowing her way to the front as if the other people waiting didn't matter.

_Typical Susan._

And as the minutes faded, so did the circle of lights, growing dimmer and dimmer. Each returning from whence they'd come, until only two remained.

Delenn and John.

_Finally._

As Delenn strolled toward him, eyes bright with so many tears, John kicked himself for not using the last three hours to come up with some great first line. But all he'd done during that time was stare at his lovely wife, dreaming of taking her in his arms and kissing her senseless.

But now she was right before him, head tilted up, lips quivering, beseeching.

"John."

God, one word and his whole Universe fell into place.

"John I—"

He crushed her to him, lips hard, mouth rough, hands seeking.

No way could he be tender, play the gentlemen. There was no gentlemen left in John Sheridan. Not with Delenn finally so damn close.

_Mine._

So he took. And took. And took. And, yes, took some more, reveling in the sweetness of the woman. Devouring her sobs and moans, and giving her his in return.

They fell, and a luscious bed caught them.

John cradled Delenn to him, still kissing, still exploring with teeth and tongue and lips and hands.

And she explored too, Delenn no passive partner to be dragged along with the rising tide of lust and longing.

No, Delenn's hands were eager, mouth and body hungry, hips undulating in the most sinfully erotic way.

Hell, yes, it was all coming back to John. The Shan'Fal, their honeymoon, and all the intimate nights—and days—they'd shared. The angle of the bed irrelvant when all they wanted was to be together. John inside, stroking, pleasing, loving.

And he wanted that experience again. Wanted more than old, recycled memories. Wanted passion and heat and warmth and wetness.

Wanted Delenn.

But he had her, in his arms, under his naked body.

And he found her, that delicate flower that opened so invitingly under his touch, taking him in and making John feel right at home.

Welcomed.

Cherished.

Loved.

And when the wave of sexual euphoria finally released John and Delenn from its intoxicating talons, they floated back to themselves. All sweat, heavy breathing, and satiation.

Delenn settled in the crook of John's arm, his chest her willing pillow.

"Well, he said," swallowing hard to catch his breath, "that was one hell of a hello."

Delenn laughed, a sexy sound that went straight to John's groin.

"After so long apart, John, when I finally saw you, I found my mind had gone completely blank." Delenn looked chagrined, brow furrowing when she looked up at him. "That has never happened to me before. Perhaps death has affected my ability to think and reason."

John chuckled, reminded exactly why he'd fallen in love with Delenn of Mir. The woman was unaccountably adorable.

"So you decided to jump my bones instead?"

She laughed again, throaty and sensual.

"I believe it was you who did all the jumping." Delenn raised up on her elbows and looked down at John, green-gray eyes shimmering with flickers of repressed naughtiness. "And everything else as well. So much so, John, I thought I was on an old-fashioned boat, rocking and rolling, unable to keep my balance, forced to hold on or be thrown overboard."

"Well," he said, plucking a stray strand of hair out of Delenn's face, "we are soulmates, captains of each other's ships."

"Soulmates." Delenn smiled. "We are at that." She pressed her lips to his. "You've always been that to me, John." Another kiss. "Always."

All the humor and sexiness was gone from her voice now. Delenn's words healing a wound deep within John Sheridan. A wound that, if he was being honest, began the moment John learned he only had twenty years to live. Twenty years to spend with Delenn. _Twenty years and no more._

Delenn caressed his cheek, a soothing stroke of fingers then palm.

He'd missed this, missed her.

"I love you, John Sheridan." Delenn shook her head. "You can't possibly know how much."

Oh, but he could. For his love for this woman, this Minbari, was fathomless and all-consuming.

"I love, you, Delenn," John said, the four words carrying the weight of a billion stars.

Then he kissed her. Or perhaps she kissed him.

But it didn't matter, it never did.

All that ever mattered, all that ever would matter for John and Delenn was that they were together.

In body.

In heart.

In soul.

In love.

Soulmates.

Amen.

**THE END**


End file.
